Would You Like Fries With That?
by Blood-Emperor-Lotor
Summary: Lotura au
1. Chapter 1

"Absolutely ridiculous." Allura banged her head on the wall. Not hard enough to give her an injury or concussion, but enough to definitely hurt. She looks down at her phone. We regret to inform you that your job application has been denied. "That was my last chance!" She whined, squeezing her eyes tightly.

She needed a job. Ever since her father's restaurant had been shut down, their family had been losing money. Now that she had gotten a culinary master's degree, she needed to get a job to pay back all those student loans, bills, and her parents and uncle. She had applied to McDonald's as a last resort. Well...an almost last resort. She wasn't going to even consider the other one an option.

"You didn't get the job, did you?" Lance asked. Allura shook her head.

"No," she grumbled. "I didn't." She stands up slowly, wiping her face. "Lance, I'm entirely screwed. I'll be paying off loans for years!" She hugs herself, pacing the room. Lance stands there with his hands on his hips.

"You've got a culinary degree, 'Lura," he said, wiping his nose in thought. He bites his lip. "Can't you start your own business? Or just try working at Vrepit Savor?"

She froze. "No! No, not there. You couldn't force me to apply there." She crossed her arms and glares at him. Her father's rival, the man who caused her father to lose the restaurant, ran and owned the chain. She would have to be beyond desperate to even consider it.

"Allura, it pays well. Just to start off. Trust me." He sets a hand on her shoulder. "Even though Zarkon Empire runs it, it doesn't mean you'll be giving in to some sort of rivalry. Knowing you," he says, whispering praise, "you could make it to manager in a week and be out of there in a month."

She smiled at her friend. "Thanks, Lance. But I'll try with Wendy's one more time." She stepped away from his touch. She needed to think a little harder. Like, to start off with, how much longer she could live with Coran. It had been ten months! Or maybe do small jobs, like candle-making with Hunk's girlfriend, Shay. (No small task, mind you.)

"Up to you," he says. That it was. She sits down in a chair. They were in an empty classroom in Arus Community College. Coran, her uncle, taught there, but it was not enough for her degree. She was still welcome to study there, though.

"Starting my own business would cost more money than it's worth," she tells him. He shrugs, but she can tell it worries him, too. Being in this position...she wasn't sure how to deal with it.

"Why not just try applying? See what your chances are? You can always quit."

"I hate it when you're right," she groaned. "I...I'll grab a form." Attagirl. She didn't want to. But if she could get a job, even from Zarkon, she needed it.

"See? It'll be worth it." Lance smiled his winning smile. One she usually trusted. But, oddly, she didn't trust it now.

* * *

"Lance is going to die," she grumbled as she walked in. The door made a chime. The tile in the lobby was speckled white, the tables a bright red plastic. The walls were deep maroon, indigo, and pink. A hideous combination, but with the low lighting, it seemed to work.

Waitresses and waiters rolled around, two girls whistling at each other. A girl with brown skin and dyed fluffy hair winks at a brunette with a long, high ponytail. The nametags read _Ezor_ and _Zethrid_.

A girl with a bob haircut rolls her eyes, taking a tray into the kitchen. Allura, being herself, assumed that naturally, the girls were close. But maybe they just didn't like each other.

It seemed like a typical sports bar, to be fair. Bustling with drinking, laughing, chatter. Loud pop music played overhead, the kind everyone knew the words to but complained when they heard it come on. Servers wore roller skates and anyone with hair long enough had a high ponytail.

Girls wore short black skirts with pink underline. Boys had long black slacks with blue aprons. The tops were all light colored — most girls wore polo shirts and the boys wore dress shirts. She swallows. Fashionable.

She still couldn't believe that she was doing this. Even standing in the damn lobby made her sweat with fear. She shifted on the balls of her feet. "This has to be the dumbest, most desperate thing I've ever done," she mumbled. She played with her hair nervously, making sure her earrings were in. She had eventually given in to Lance's ridiculous suggestion, and she was having a hard time believing she had made it passed the front door.

Why had she thought this idea was okay? Everyone here was more attractive, more agile, more friendly and confident. To her horror, even more servers rolled out in sync. They were all so...they just knew how to work as one.

"Miss? Are you all right?" a young man's voice comes behind her. Her thoughts are immediately broken, as are her worries. She jumped, letting out a small cry. She whipped around, almost dumb-founded by the male standing next to her.

He was gorgeous. No other way to put it. He had styled his hair in a perfect way that showed off his face. His square jaw was set with obvious concern, his slightly baggy white dress shirt a fantastic fit. His eyes were a soft, warm color. Blue? Indigo? Oh, goodness. She swallowed thickly before trying to answer.

"Y-yes," she stammered. His white hair falls into his face. Just a single piece. He was lovely, yes, but there was something about him that annoyed her. "I'm fine." She brushed off her pink dress, trying not to stare at his black and red skates. The hottest waiter she had ever seen.

"Are you sure? Would you like me to seat you?" he asked. She didn't move at first, unsure of what to say. She bites her lip and shakes her head.

"No, thank you. You see," she starts out, "I would like to apply for a job."

It seemed like everything went...quiet. _Yep_ , she thinks. _This was a bad idea._


	2. Chapter 2

"You...what?" The waiter blinks like he had never heard that phrase before. Allura bites her lip nervously. She felt like everyone was staring at her. Especially this waiter. The expression he portrayed made it seem like he was expecting a compliment instead of being tossed aside. "D-do you have any experience?"

"Aren't you supposed to get me a form or something?" she asked suddenly, agitated from the sudden attention, his reaction, and the fact she was in a building she never thought she'd even look past the front door of. She tried to change the subject best she could. "Or take me to see your manager?" She blew out her cheeks, exhaling sharply.

The dark lighting made this simple sports bar seem like a club; the drinks and music not even close to helping. She felt over _and_ under-dressed at the same time. How was that even possible? She felt her face grow hot, the small waves of heat dancing on her nose. Her hands and feet tingle in anticipation. This place was starting to get to her. A song she did know, _Quintessence_ by Lion Gods, played overhead. The song, this place... They did things to her.

 _You're like a drug, babe..._

"Well, I _am_ the manager, miss." He laughs mischievously. Allura was starting to see a bit of an ego in this man. "And if you'd like one, I can. I'm Lotor Princeps." He held out his hand, which she carefully took. He gave hers a strong shake. She was slightly nervous about him. The look he was giving her was more of a scan on her body than an evaluation for a new employee.

 _Frightening but add-ict-ing~_

 _Tell me who you're searching for_

 _Do they make your being come to life?_

The lyrics seemed to read the situation perfectly. Yet...that seemed too intimate for someone she just met, today. "Allura Altea," she said plainly. She kept her eyes locked on this new man. No idiot would trust him at the first word, but any intellectual would feel the urge to. "Yes, I would like one."

"As you wish, Miss Altea. Anything else?" He ran a hand through his messy ponytail. He smirks slightly when she opened her mouth, making her suspect that he was up to something. She felt more frightened by that little tidbit of information than whatever he was about to say.

"A pen," she says finally. He pulls one out of his pocket. She reached for it, but he pulls it away. How rude was this man? She felt shock play on her face. She swallowed, listening to his rumbling, deep chuckle.

"What's the magic word?" he asked, showing his teeth in a sinister way. This Lotor...a pain in the ass, already. She clenched her jaw.

" _Please_ ," she adds, a bit bitter. Co-workers should never treat each other like this. She wanted to walk out, but she was so close... When he handed her the pen for real, she practically snatched it from his hand.

"Just...get me an application, please," she said quickly. Lotor smiled, tucking a tray under his arm. He beckons her to follow, pushing off the ground to roll slowly toward the kitchens. She was mesmerized by his movements. How often did he do this? Every day? Or was it just a part-time job? How old was he? Why was he the only thing on her mind, right now?

"Of course! Would you like fries with that?" he jokes, looking over his shoulder to see her reaction. She feels her starstruck expression turn sour. She had to resist the urge to cross her arms as she keeps pace with him.

She found herself studying this man's back. And his _backside._ She sucked in a quiet but sharp inhale. Muscles showed through his shirt, rippling as he moved. His legs? So, so long. Not to mention those _hips_. The waist, too! So attractive. He belonged somewhere else, maybe a beach or a gym. His hair was such a gorgeous color, the silvers and whites stemming from his scalp. A natural color. You didn't see that every day. Lotor's ponytail swishes, hypnotizing her, yet again.

"...Huh?" she asked, the question having disappeared from her mind. She feels her face grow hot. She fiddles with the hem of her dress, nervously, though her eyes are still glued to the nape of his strong neck. No doubt his ego was as thick as he was.

"I said, 'Would you like fries with that?' A restaurant joke, Miss Altea." He smirks, and she swears he sees his dark cheeks turn a light shade of pink. _She_ flushed.

"Oh. Oh!" She attempts to laugh, but it comes out a little forced and definitely awkward. No other boys she knew did this to her, so why was he?

He holds the door open for her. She walks in slowly, looking around. The kitchen was just as dark colored as the lobby, but definitely lighter inside. People screaming at each other, playing the Knife Game ("I have all my fingers! The knife goes _chop, chop, chop_..."), rolling around with trays, and checking the stoves and ovens constantly. A deep fryer sizzled as someone put a new basket of whatever-it-was was put under. The whole room smelled amazing, making Allura's unfed stomach churn with excitement.

"Newbie?" the bob-cut girl said. She had dark hair, and dark lipstick to match. She was blowing bubblegum. That was blue. It seemed everything about her was blue, actually. Her hair, her lipstick, her clothes. All midnight blue. Even her eyes were that color, but they could have been contacts.

"Going to be, if her interview goes well," Lotor said. He rolled up behind her. Allura gulped, closing her eyes momentarily. "Break, Acxa?"

"Mmmhm," she smirks, popping her gum, again. "Did she come up to you and say it, or are you just offering her a job like you did to Nar?" She narrows her eyes at Allura. _Offering me a job? What's that supposed to mean?_ she thinks. Lotor laughs bitterly.

"You're just jealous, aren't you?" he growled with a smile. Allura felt so, so, so awkward. She wasn't supposed to be witnessing this! "Ever since our break-up, you've been nothing but nosy." She crossed her arms, wrinkling her nose at him.

"Just do your interview! You don't know anything about me, anyways," she grumbled, skating away. "Just don't do what you did to Nar." Lotor rolled his eyes as she passes. Allura wondered what other histories they had together...

"Well, Miss Allura," Lotor said, turning to her, yet again. "Let's do that interview. And, ah, watch your step in here." She nods, a chill running down her back.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"Please, take a seat," he says, shutting the door to the employee lounge they were using as an "office." He sat down and unlaced his skates. She felt her heart quicken as she realized she was close to screwing up yet another interview. This was such a lost cause!

She nodded, looking over at the small table in the middle of the room. It was blue, the carpet red. The whole room seemed like an itty-bitty classroom. "Mm." She sits down in a plastic chair, a light periwinkle.

"Alright," he mumbled, just standing in his socks. He takes out his hair, which falls down his back. _So_ _hot...,_ Allura thinks. At least she manages to not say it out loud. She hoped. He sat down in front of her, that single lock of hair falling in his face yet again. For once, she wished his features weren't like a piece of art. Or maybe candy for her eyes.

Her thoughts traveled to him taking off that shirt. She could already see the muscles _through_ the button-up...

"Miss Altea, do you have any experience in the food industry?" he asked, snapping her out of her fantasy. He sat back, resting his head on his fist in a bored manner. She felt her face light on fire, making her jump a mile high. He stares at her with exasperated, half-lidded eyes, though it's a temporary expression. You could clearly see the admiration. "Please don't tell me this is your first job ever."

"It is, actually, but my father owned a restaurant," she said. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

He sits up bolt right. "Wait." His eyes were wide. "Wait, your last name is _Altea._ Was your father—?" She cuts him off.

"Yes. I'm Alfor Altea's daughter." She sits up straighter. She loved her father, and even talking about him made her feel enormous pride in her chest, swelling like a helium balloon. "I have a culinary degree, on top of having worked at Paladins' Plate. Where my father made his legacy...and lost it." She had trouble admitting the last part. Her voice grew quiet.

He continued asking questions, not even bothering letting her fill out her _own_ resume. He did it for her, oddly. Blood rushed into her head. Or left? Anyway, she felt dizzy by the end of the interview. She was so, so worried.

Lotor grinned at her after the last question.

"Well, it seems, Miss Altea, that we have something in common," he said quietly. She noticed how his eyes flickered to her chest, her shoulders, her face, then back to her chest again. (It would be unfair to say she hadn't snuck peeks at _his_ chest, but at least she wasn't constantly looking.) He had a very hungry look in his eyes. He had been looking all over at her the entire time. She resisted the urge to cross her arms over it.

"Oh? And what is that, exactly?" she asked, her tone curious. She arched a brow.

"For me to know, and _you_ to find out." He grins. "I'll run this through with the boss. I think you'd be a great asset to the team, Miss Altea." He stands up, helping her, as well. "You know. The _boss_ boss."

She stands straight. "So you'll call me if I get the job?"

"Of course." He winked.

She pressed her lips together tightly. "Thank you. I'll make my way home, then." He bows, laughing.

"You're welcome, Miss Allura."

* * *

"How did it go...?" Romelle, her roommate, asked. She had her hair up in high pigtails, today, wearing a sea-green blouse with pink jeans. Her dangle earrings moved as she turned to help a very frustrated Allura sit down. James, her boyfriend, was over, too. She couldn't help but notice his black slacks and button-up shirt.

"Horrid." She plopped on their couch, burying her face in her hands. Romelle rubbed her back. Her cousin/BFF/roommate was such a foul-weather friend, but she loved her. She leans into her, groaning with frustration and exhaustion. "The manager was such a jerk, Romelle!" A handsome jerk, but still one nonetheless.

"Manager? Why?" she asked, arching a brow. She had soft purple eyes that could see through everything, but usually, she jumped to conclusions before actually collecting evidence. Allura was glad she found someone who was willing to believe in her (sometimes silly and ridiculous) claims. James Griffin was a sweet boy.

"He was...like James before he knew how to respect people," she said, deciding that was a good example. Judging by James' reaction, it was the right one. "You know?" She kicked off her pumps, absolutely done with everything at the moment. She wanted to get that Lotor guy out of her head, but he just stuck there. There was something about him that she didn't quite like, and something even more that she wanted to hold on to.

"Mhm. What did he do to you, exactly?" Romelle continued.

"A lot of things," she grumbled. "Would you like me to start back from square one or do I summarize the whole interview?"

"No, not really," Romelle says, shrinking back. "Why is your face so pink, 'Lura?"

"Because!" she huffed. "It was an embarrassing experience." She sniffs and looks away. Not to mention an interesting one as well.

"So who interviewed you?" James asked. "Did you catch a name?" His eyebrows knitted together, the pilot-in-training seeming to be fascinated by who this manager was. His brown locks fall into his face.

"I...," she starts, but she couldn't bring herself to say the name just yet. "I can't quite remember." Lies. Duh. But Allura could pull off a fib, she always could. She just didn't like doing it.

"Oh. I was worried that my roommate might have interviewed you; he isn't very nice to people. His dad owns the restaurant and he can be pretty stuck up, even to a pretty face." He rubbed his neck. Allura arched a brow. "It's taken a long time for him to actually start being considerate."

"How long have you known _him_ again?" Romelle sighed, rolling her eyes at the mention of her boyfriend's roommate. Though Allura had never met James's roommate, she knew that Romelle hated him.

Allura actually met Romelle for the first time nine months ago. She didn't know James well enough, except that he used to go to the same school as some of her oldest friends, Keith, Lance, Pidge, and Hunk. She knew Shiro used to tutor there, though he was private about his education. Coran had taught her at home.

"Years. He used to go to Diabazaal High, I met him at football," he says. "I was watching the game with my sister, Narti." Allura's ears went back. (Yes, she could wiggle her ears, and sometimes they moved like a cat's.)

"Narti? I thought she hated football." Nar? Narti? It was a popular name, she supposed. Perhaps this manager and his roommate were different people. She laughs softly.

"No, she loves it," James laughed. " _I_ hate it." Romelle smiled. "Mellie likes it, though, oddly." He wraps his arms around Romelle. Those two...

"And let me guess: You two hit it off and became best friends right away?" Allura laughed. She hugged her knees to her chest.

"No, actually, we hated each other at first," he explained. "It just turned out that he's the more intelligent, more insensitive version of me." He ran his hand through his bangs. "Prince can't stand the fact I'm good with girls, actually."

"His name is Prince?" she asked, cocking her head, though she was relieved.

"You could say that," he said vaguely, not elaborating. Allura thought about that. What was that Lotor's last name? She couldn't remember.

"Mm."

"So did you get the job?"

"I really don't know, yet. He said he would contact me if I did or didn't." She sighed. "I'm kind of nervous, actually. This was my last chance to try and pay the loans back." She buried her face in her knees. "If I don't get it, I'll have to move back in with Coran and die."

"You won't die," Romelle laughed. "I'll make sure of it."

"No," she decided. "I'm going to die and never recover. In fact, I'm going to make sure no one will even find out the cause except for 'World's Biggest Fail.'" She sighed. "My father always said I could do what I set my mind to, and now that I actually have my mind set on something I can't!"

"Allura, calm down. You'll be alright," James said carefully. "I'm sure you'll get the job."

"I truly hope so." And in the darkest part of her heart, a small whisper admitted a disturbing truth: _Maybe we'll see Lotor again. And maybe whatever was happening during the interview comes to light as something deeper._

And you know what? She had a strange, inkling feeling that Lotor thought the same thing at least once today.

* * *

"Zethrid, I am _telling_ you, that girl was Alfor Altea's daughter," he said firmly. "I can't believe she applied to work _here!_ " He wiped his face excitedly. "Allura Altea!" He couldn't believe it. His father's old friend's daughter. And so much more than that.

"No, I believe you," she grumbled. "I'm just worried you'll do something rash. Like, ask her out. Or offer to be the one to train her."

"But she's so—"

"Exactly. If she gets approved, Ezor and I will train her. _You'll_ just break her heart," she said darkly. She played with her fluffy buns impatiently. "You caused Narti to completely lose it in the kitchen and you've broken up with Acxa. Rebecca was your little toy and you haven't had the guts to actually end that."

"You're right. She ended that—"

"What I'm saying is, you're done with the newbies."

Lotor was stricken. "Alright," he conceded. "You do have a point. I am quite awful with women." He folds his arms and stares at his feet. "But why not her?"

"Because Ezor and I called dibs?"

Lotor rolls his eyes. "She's not property. She's a lady, and she acts like one, too. Not like you or Ezor." He smirks, but that fell quickly.

"And? You just met her." Zethrid cocked her head. "Your father would have never allowed you to actively seek out Alfor's daughter."

Lotor closed his mouth, holding up a finger slowly. His expression said it all. _We used to play together when we were little but I was three and she was two. I remember vividly,_ was what he _wanted_ to say, but instead, this came out: "...Actually—"

"You turd!" Zethrid shouted. She wiped her face. "No! No, I don't want to hear it! No more exes!"

"She's technically not an ex—" he tried yet again, a little more desperate. Perhaps a reputation was not such a good thing. He stood up more, stepping closer to his friend.

The girl stormed out. "Dude!" she cried, slamming the door. He winced at the volume of the noise. It was almost certain; he was going to have to steer clear of Allura Altea. Even _if_ his father allowed her to work at the restaurant.

"It appears," he mumbled, "I'm screwed."


End file.
